PT**v, 


IM 


FROM   THE   LIBRARY  OF 
REV.   LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON,  D.  D 

BEQUEATHED    BY   HIM   TO 

THE   LIBRARY  OF 

PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


XMviskrf        S<^5 
Section  /  .^?  *&^ 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


http://archive.org/details/swallowOOkimb 


V 


\* 


0* 


S  W  A  L  L  O  \V  -  F  li  LCf  19  T  S^ 


*. 


s- 


: 


HARRIET   McEWEN    KIMBALL. 


dare  she  trust  a  larger  lay, 
But  rather  l<.K>sens  from  the  lip 

hat  dip 
Their  wings  in  tears  and  skim  away. 

Tens1. 


N  E  W    YORK: 
I'.  DUTT(  >\    AM)    C(  >MPANY. 

w. 
1874. 


Entered,  according  to  act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1874,  by 

Harriet  McEwen  Kimball, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


RIVERSIDE,    CAMBRIDGE.' 
PKINTED    BY    H.  O.  HOUGHTON    AND    COMPANY. 


CONTEXTS. 


i. 

PAGE 

The  Flight  of  the  I            i 

In  Sprim        me j 

ND  Saint 4 

•TIME 5 

•  N  I  1  A 

Ti      Singer 

The  Mornim            icber 9 

Jr        -                     11 

I.  Caprice    .........  11 

II.  Faithle-                  .......  11 

III.  Constant .        .12 

IV.  Petition 

V.  Expectant        .        .                        .                .        .  13 

Scr [5 

In  Revkrii 16 

17 

Win  1  

19 

\s 20 



24 

1L  


IV  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Day-Lilies 26 

My  Wish 29 

The  Crickets 30 

To  a  Sleeping  Child 31 

The  Home  among  the  Hills 32 


Nothing  to  Do 


Song 

A  Glimpse  of  Heaven 
To  the  Blue  Gentian 
The  Lovely  Sleeper 


Good  News 


Woman 


As  Thou  wilt 
God's  Silence 


34 


Difference 36 

Heliotrope 37 

The  Coat 40 

The  Fairy  Taper 41 


43 

44 
45 
47 


In  Autumn 48 

Vive  la  Reine 53 

54 


Rose  and  Thorn 56 

II. 


59 


Abraham  Lincoln 62 

III. 

All  in  All 67 

Quicken  Thou  Me 69 

The  Divine  Love 70 


72 
73 


"  Peace,  Troubled  Soul'* 75 


TENTS 

. 
Hid  with  Chri 
Thi  L  -w  est  Pla< 
Thk  M  La  Trappe  . 

I         Lightly  Earth 
Ti      N  '■'■        H 

i    Fi  1ST-  riME  of  Tin    Vi  vr 
a  Little  Christmas  Sermon    . 
I  mm  a  

M  \KY     M    -1  H: 

Tin    Nativity 
Tin.   I  [<  »i  v  Chi: 
Hvm  Lent 

1  IN     \ 

I  K«>L 

rrER  Day  . 

Till     G  ►MM*   \    OFFER! 

••  Li  i  your  Light  so  Shi 

In   THE    ^  >W   OP    1  HE   I        >ss 

A   1':.  I  >R   Pah: 

a   Psalm  oi    Wearini 
a  M  .rning  Hymn 

MlT  IS  I" 

A    (  to  H  .    BY    TWILIGHI 

The  Unspoej 

A    \  ... 

When  I 


PAGB 

90 

9^ 

99 

96 

100 

105 

107 

109 

1 1 1 

"3 

»7 

118 

[20 

I  22 

123 

1-4 

I  2<> 

'3° 

J. 


^    * 


ft 


THE    FLIGHT   OF   THE    BIRD 

WISE  little  birds,  how  do  ye  know 
The  way  to  go, 

Southward  and  northward,  to  and  fro  ? 


Tar  up  in  the  ether  piped  they  : 

u  We  but  obey 
One  who  calleth  us  far  away. 

"  He  calleth  and  calleth  year  by  year, 
Xow  there,  now  here  ; 
Ever  He  maketh  the  way  appear." 


Dear  little  bird         He  calleth  me 
Who  calleth  ye  ; 
add  that  I  might  as  trusting  be  I 


IN  SPRING-TIME. 

LL  rosy-white  the  orchard  shows, 
All  blossom-sweet  the  west  wind  blows, 
And  sights  and  scents  together  bring 
To  yearning  hearts  the  joy  of  Spring. 

Through  sunny  vapors  streams  the  sun, 
And  lights  and  showers  blend  in  one  ; 
The  fragrant  rain  through  fragrance  falls. 
And  grape-vines  bud  on  sheltering  walls. 

Out-warbling  from  his  generous  throat, 
The  golden  robin's  golden  note 
Calls  to  the  lily  and  the  rose 
Still  greenly  hid  in  leafy  close. 

Hills  capt  with  silence,  as  with  snow, 
Catch  laughter  faint  of  brooks  below. 
With  starry  dandelions  gay 
The  meadows  mimic  night  by  day. 


IN  SPRING-TIME. 

Dim-cloistered  in  the  odorous  wood, 
A  shadow-lovii  rhoodj 

The  wild  flowers  that  the  sun  foi         UT, 

e  pale  as  pious  nuns  with  prayer- 
Like  one  refreshed  by  balmy  sleep, 
Her  inmost  bosom  warm  and  deep 
A-throb  with  beauty  yet  unborn, 
Earth  breathes  a?        he  blissful  morn. 

From  sunny  nooks  that  dream  of  bloom 
To  where  gray  moss  o'ergrows  the  tomb, 
Floats  everywhere  that  precious  breath  — 
The  Life  that  ever  conquers  Death. 

This  is  the  joy  of  Spring,  indeed  ; 
The  witness  glad  to  Word  and  Creed ; 
The  lovely  Parable  of  Earth 
That  pointeth  to  Immortal  Birth  ! 


BRIDE    AND    SAINT. 

HEY  should  be  silver  bells  that  ring, 
Lovely  one,  for  thy  wedding ; 

Silver  bells  the  bells  should  be 
That  ring  for  thee. 


They  should  be  bells  of  purest  gold, 
Sweet  saint,  for  thy  passing  tolled  \ 

Golden  bells  the  bells  should  be 

That  toll  for  thee. 


SUMMER-TIME. 

UMMER'S    breath    has    kissed   the    lovely 
bloom 
From  the  apple  trees  : 
Out  of  flower-cups,  dripping  with  perfume, 
Sip  the  honey-bee>. 

Where  the  vines  are  strung  with  roses  red 

1  )art  the  humming-birds  ; 
Winds,  like  lovers,  in  the  boughs  o'erhead, 

Whisper  tender  word 

Clover-crested  are  the  waves  of  grass 

Where  the  little  feet 
Frolic,  deep  in  coolne-  I  pa 

From  the  sunny  street. 

When,  at  eve,  o'er  field  and  \^n  and  brak 

Misty  curtains  fall, 
Fire-flies,  in  their  meteor  dances,  make 

Nightl;   I     rnival. 


SUMMER-TIME. 


In  the  dark  I  watch  the  happy  sight, 

Thinking  oft  of  thee  : 
As  the  twinkling  fire-flies  to  the  night, 

Are  those  thoughts  to  me  ! 


INCOGNITA, 


EILED  in  verse,  who  knov 
Whether  I  smile  or  weej 
Slippered  in  fancies,  who  can  tell 
What  measure  of  step  I  keep  ? 


Lift  the  veil,  dear  Love  ! 

To  thee  I  will  show  my  face  ; 
Hark,  and  thine  ear  shall  surely  hear 

My  heart's  inaudible  pace  ! 


THE    SINGER. 

HE  sits  and  sings  in  the  room  below, 
A  tender  ballad  of  love  and  woe, 
Wedded  to  music  plaintive  and  slow. 


And  who  would  dream  that  her  heart  is  gay, 
While  she  singeth  so  sad  a  lay  — 
Seeming  to  pour  her  soul  away  ? 

Why  not  ?     She  doeth  her  heart  no  wrong  ; 
Lips  joy-laden  the  whole  day  long 
Well  can  afford  to  sorrow  in  song ! 

So  keep  her,  Heaven !  nor  let  her  know 
Other  sighings  than  those  that  flow, 
Rhythmic,  through  ballads  of  love  and  woe. 


THE    MORNING   CHAMBER 

i. 

1 1 1 S  flower-like  chamber,  delicately-walled. 
Of  softest  tii  w-ceiled,  wide  and  fair. 

Where  pensive  meditations  seem  installed 
I  ike  cloistered  nuns  long-motionless  in  prayer  ; 
This  lovely  chamber,  looking  south  and  east 

A       ss  green  seas  of  rippling  foliage  dense, 
Whose  waiting  windows  catch  the  first  and  least 

Soft  glimmer  from  that  heavenly  chamber  whence 
The  sun  rejoicing  cometh  ;   this  sweet  room, 

While  folded  yet  in  slumbers  incomph 
The  whole  fair  house  beside  lies  wrapt  in  gloom  — 
This  morning  chamber,  high  above  the  Street, 
-  silent  glory  floods  and  overflows 
W 'ith  golden  calm  that  crowns  the  night' 

ii. 
High  noon  !  and  fuller  floods  of  sunshine  pour 

Into  tl.  g  chaml     .  :ill  it  seems  — 


10  THE   MORNING  CHAMBER. 

The  very  hidden  rafters,  secret  beams  — 
To  swim  in  splendor !     I  but  cross  the  floor 
And  I  forget  'tis  Winter,  keen  as  clear. 

To  the  swift  eyes  of  mine  imagining 

Wide  stand  the  windows,  and  the  breath  of  Spring, 
Sweet  courier  of  the  violets,  is  here. 
I  half  resolve  to  hie  me  out  and  see 

How  like  a  tiny  army  they  possess 

The  earth  —  the  violets,  with  their  loveliness, 
When,  of  a  sudden,  breaks  my  reverie  ! 
But  the  warm  flood  fills  all  the  chamber  yet, 
And,  ere  it  ebbs,  I  will  again  forget ! 

in. 

Fair  as  the  peace  that  like  a  river  flows, 

Across  the  room  the  cloudless  moonlight  streams  ; 
Recess  and  corner  dusk  its  hallowing  beams 
Suffuse  with  mist-like  glimmer  of  repose. 
So  hushed  this  chamber,  and  so  rapt  this  tide 
Of  visible  calm,  that  blessed  visions  rise 
Of  the  Great  City  of  Peace  beyond  the  skies  — 
Of  crystal  waters  that  perpetual  glide 
From  out  the  Throne,  swift  light  descending  light, 
Forever  and  forever,  with  a  sound 
Of  inconceivable  music,  music-drowned 
In  rain  of  benediction  from  the  might 
And  majesty  of  One  enthroned  above  — 
The  Light  of  Light,  whose  Name  of  Names  is  Love  ! 


JUNE  SONGS. 
I. 

CAPRICE. 

HE  rose  is  dead  in  my  Lady's  bower  ; 
The  love  is  dead  in  my  Lady's  heart  ! 
The  rose  was  onl        rammer  ilowi 
Born  to  die  in  a  summer  hour  — 
To  yield  its  life  to  the  passionate  shower 
That  tore  its  radiant  leaves  apart. 

The  rose-tree  will  blossom  again.  I  know. 
But  what  care  I  for  to-morrow's  flower  ? 

Some  idle  wind  will  capriciously  blov 

The  rain's  wild  feet  will  trample  it  ;  O 

Pluck  it  who  will  !  for  myself  I  go 

And  leave  the  rose  in  my  Lady's  bower! 


II. 


\1THI 

O  light  and  many  thy  words  ; 
O  well  they  earnest  and  ft 


12  JUNE   SONGS, 

O  sweet  and  false  are  thy  words  : 
O  well  were  they  bitter  and  true  ! 

Take  back  the  pledge  I  have  worn  - 
The  red,  red  rose  in  my  breast ! 

Alas  !  could  I  pluck  out  the  thorn 
That  tortures  this  heart  of  unrest 


III. 


CONSTANCY. 

I  rifled  a  leaf  from  the  heart  of  a  rose  :  — 

Believe  !  believe  ! 
Though  love  comes  lightly,  not  lightly  it  goes  ; 
It  steals  through  our  veins  and  our  youth's  white 

flower 
Blossoms  in  crimson  from  that  hour ; 
Life  of  our  life,  it  cannot  deceive  ! 
I  love  thee,  I  love  thee,  believe ! 

0  fancies  are  fitful  as  breezes  that  blow  — 

Believe  !  believe  ! 
They  come  to  us  lightly,  more  lightly  they  go ; 
Diviner  than  duty,  and  stronger  than  will, 
Love,  the  sweet  mystery,  rules  me  still ; 
Tyranny  tender,  it  cannot  deceive  ; 

1  love  thee,  I  love  thee,  believe ! 


JUNE  SONGS.  l5 

IV. 

PETITK 

Only  the  roses  will  hear  ; 

1  )ear, 

Only  the  roses  will  se 
This  once  — just  this  ! 
Ah,  the  roses  I  wis 
They  envy  me  ! 

Here  is  a  half-blown  spra; 

Say, 
This  shall  Love's  anadem  be  ! 
A  rose-strung  wreath 
For  thy  brow,  and  beneath 
A  rose  for  me  ! 

v. 

EXPl      i  IN<  V. 

Summer,  rain  me  a  rain  of  rose-leaves  ; 

Only  on  rose-1  lie  shall  tread  ! 

Summer,  rain  me  a  rain  of  rose  leaves 

Over  the  banquet    I      c  hath  spread. 

ver  Orient  feast  so  splendi 
Viands  so  costly,  n  SO  rare  ; 


14  JUNE  SONGS. 

Never  showers  of  bloom  descended 
Veiling  a  princess  half  so  fair  ! 

Summer,  make  her  a  couch  of  roses, 
Pillows  of  rose-leaves  lightly  prest  \ 

Odors  sweet  when  my  Love  reposes 
Dreamily  drifting  round  her  rest ! 

Come,  Beloved,  the  feast  awaits  thee ; 

Cruelly  traitor  moments  flee ! 
Is  it  sorrow  or  joy  belates  thee  ? 

Heedest  thou  ought  unshared  by  me 

Coming  !  O  rapture  more  than  mortal ! 

Softly  the  gates  of  bliss  unclose ; 
Silence,  guarding  the  sacred  portal, 

Wears  in  her  breast  the  symbol  rose 


•N'G. 

(  >MK  with  the  birds  in  the  spring, 
Thou  whose  voice  rivaleth  theii 
Come  with  the  flowers  and  bri: 
Sweet  shame  to  their  bloom  unaware 


Come,  —  but  O  how  can  I  wait! 

>me  through  the  snows  of  to-d.. 
Come,  and  the  '  earth  elate 

all  leap  for  thy  sake  into  Ma; 


IN  REVERIE. 

N  the  West  the  weary  Day 

Folds  its  amber  wings  and  dies! 
Night,  the  long-delaying  Night, 
Walks  abroad  in  starry  guise. 

Rest  more  precious  than  a  sleep, 
Silence  sweeter  than  a  dream  — 

These  enfold  me  as  I  float, 
Idle  waif  on  idle  stream  ! 

In  the  rippling  trees  I  hear 

Flowing  waves  and  dipping  oars  \ 

And  beloved  voices  near 

Seem  to  steal  from  fading  shores  : 


Fainter — fainter  —  fainter  still  !  .  . 

By  no  breath  of  passion  crossed, 
With  the  tide  I  drift  and  glide 

Out  to  sea and  all  is  lost ! 


SONG. 

BLU  E  sky        i  you  care 

That  I  am  sick  and  sad  ? 
That  I  should  miss  forever  the  bli 
I  might  have  had  ? 

Little  cloud,  float  on, 

And  somewhere  drop  your  u 
One  brief  hour  weep  as  I  must  weep 

Through  friendless  years  I 

Through  friendless  years,  unless  — 

O  blue  sky  !  would  you  care 
If  you  should  mis  ice  like  tl 

Some  morning  fair  } 

The  little  cloud  spreads  wi< 

The  tender  rains  descend. 
And  now  I  \\i  i  know  that  I  keep 

In  heaven  a  friend 


WHITE   AZALEAS. 

iZALEAS  —  whitest  of  white  ! 
White  as  the  drifted  snow 
Fresh-fallen  out  of  the  night, 
Before  the  coming  glow 
Tinges  the  morning  light ; 

When  the  light  is  like  the  snow.     . 
White, 
And  the  silence  is  like  the  light ; 
Light,  and  silence,  and  snow,  — 
All  —  white ! 

White  !  not  a  hint 
Of  the  creamy  tint 

A  rose  will  hold, 

The  whitest  rose,  in  its  inmost  fold  ; 
Not  a  possible  blush  \ 
White  as  an  embodied  hush  • 
A  very  rapture  of  white  \ 
A  wedlock  of  silence  and  light. 
White,  white  as  the  wonder  undefiled 

Of  Eve  just  wakened  in  Paradise  : 
Nay,  white  as  the  angel  of  a  child 

That  looks  into  God's  own  eyes  ! 


SONG. 


HE  wind  blows  out  of  the  west, 
The  wind  is  merry  and  fit- 
It  brings  fair  weather  for  us,  lo 
1  air  weather  for  thee  and  me. 


The  sun  shines  out  of  the  ea- 
And  dances  over  the  se> 

The  world's  a-glitter  for  us,  lo\ 
A-glitter  for  thee  and  me. 


And  now  the  world's  a-dusk, 
The  nest  unstirred  on  the  tie 

The  fair  moon  ha  full,  love, 

And  shineth  for  thee  and  me. 


SWEET-PEAS. 

WEET-Peas  !  Sweet-Peas ! 

The  very  sweetest  of  all  sweet  things 
i  Airily  poised,  like  butterfly-wings, 
On  the  slender  stem. 
And  now  they  brood  in  a  still  delight ; 

And  anon,  as  the  light  wind  touches  them, 
They  tremble  and  flutter,  as  feigning  flight, 
In  covness  —  not  affright. 
And,  lest  they  fly, 
The  tricksy  Zephyr  passes  by 
With  a  little  moan  of  make-believe, 
And  pretends  to  die 
Among  the  cherry  trees  ! 
They  only  smile  —  they  will  not  grieve, 
The  gay  and  shy 
Sweet-Peas  ! 

Sweet-Peas !  Sweet-Peas ! 
The  very  sweetest  of  all  sweet  things  ! 
Perfect  pink  and  perfect  white; 
Exhaling  a  perfume  so  rare,  so  pure, 


.9.  2  I 

It  eth  never  to  allui 

N   )l  failetfa  ever  to  satisfy  : 
Like  a  breath  of  immortality  ; 
Like  a  hint  of  youth  unspent  for  aye 
:"  love  ....   \h,  well-a-day  ! 

v.  ye  sweetest  of  all  sweet  thing 

Let-Teas. 

What  are  ye  likest  ?  —  what  like  ye  ? 
The  dream  of  Beauty,  the  wonder  that  clings 
To  snowy-lidded  Innocence  — 
These  mystic  nebul 

^ouls  of  Howers  to  b 
Lightly  drifted  hen 
And,  mingling,  straightway  they  became 
sible  in  pink  and  whit 
In  dainty-deli*         forms  like  the.- 
And  gat  themselves  a  name  ; 
Dew-christened  in  laver  of  morning  light, 

-  Sweet-Peas  !  " 

Sweet- Peas  !     Sweet- Peas  ! 
Here  is  a  handful  for  her  to  wear 
Who  eet  like  them,  and  in*  ately-fair. 

Lie  nosegay  of  blushes  mid  snOWS  of  1 
1  match  the  bloom  of  her  maiden  fa 
When  cometh  her  own  sweetheart  to  share 
The  posy  modest  and  debonair, 


22  SWEET  PEAS. 

Whose  dear  bestowal  shall  bring  him  ease 
And  sweet  assurances, 
Dispelling  sweet  anxieties, 
Sweet-Peas  ! 

And  will  ye  have  a  sweetheart,  too, 

Sweet-Peas,  Sweet-Peas  ? 
Then  here  's  Zephyr  come  back  to  woo, 
If  you  please  ! 
Nay,  but  Zephyr  is  a  flirt ! 

Make  again  your  winged  threat 
Till  in  very  truth  he  fret  — 
What 's  the  hurt  ?  — 
And  die  among  the  cherry  trees 
For  love  of  you, 

Sweet-Peas  ! 


MIDSUMMER   MORNING. 

AY  rises  veiled  in  amber  mists 

That   swathe   the    bill  and   shroud  the 
plain  j 

d  in  the  breathless  air.  unstirred, 
The  trees  are  dripping  as  with  rain. 

Like  tei         ^ng  the  emerald  sward. 

Pitched  by  the  fairies  of  the  night, 
In  the  wet  grass  ephemeral  we; 

Are  scattered,  gleaming  silver  white. 

Dew-drenched  the  flowers  ;  the  heavy  vin 
Hang  from  the  wall,  or  trail  the  ground  ; 

And  lifeless  seems  the  garden-place, 
So  lately  filled  with  murmurous  sound. 

But  slowly,  slowly  lifts  the  mist  — 

From  heavt  >lue  face  it  curls  away  ; 

id  through  the  tremb:  glistening  leave 

he  glorious  sunbeams  flame  and  plaj 


DAY-DREAMING. 

OW  better  am  I 

Than  a  butterfly  ? 
[]  Here,  as  the  noiseless  hours  go  by, 
Hour  by  hour, 

I  cling  to  my  fancy's  half-blown  flower : 
Over  its  sweetness  I  brood  and  brood, 
And  scarcely  stir,  though  sounds  intrude 
That  would  trouble  and  fret  another  mood 
Less  divine 
Than  mine  ! 

Who  cares  for  the  bees  ! 

I  will  take  my  ease, 

Dream  and  dream  as  long  as  I  please  ; 

Hour  by  hour, 

With  love-wings  fanning  my  sweet,  sweet  flower  ! 

Gather  your  honey,  and  hoard  your  gold, 

Through  spring  and  summer,  and  hive  through  cold  ! 

I  will  cling  to  my  flower  till  it  is  mouldy 

Breathe  one  sigh 

And  die  ! 


THE  LAST  APPEAL. 
TIM    room    is  swept  and    garnished    for  thy 

The  table  spread  with  Lc  most  liberal 

cheer  ; 
The  fiie  is  blazing  brightly  on  the  hearth  ; 

ith  lingers  yet  to  g        thee  welcome  here. 
When  wilt  thou  conu 

lily  I  weave  the  airy  web  of  hope  — 
Frail  as  the  spider's,  wrought  with  beads  of  dew  — 
That,  like   Penelope's,  each  night  undone, 
Each  morn  in  patience  I  begin  anev 
When  wilt  thou  conn 

X   I   j  it?     To-morrow  Faith  will  take  her  flight, 
The  fire  die  out,  the  banquet  disapp 

Forever  will  these  fingers  drop  the  web, 
id  onlv  desolation  wait  thee  here. 
O  com 


DAY-LILIES. 

SUMMER  day, 
Delay  !  delay  ! 
One  waving:  of  thv  brooding 
wing, 
One  stirring  of  thy  hazy  wing, 
And  noontide  light  and  heat 
Will  find  my  dewy  shadow-lair, 

And  burn  the  coolness  from  the  grasses 
That  swathe  mv  feet 
In  rank  and  billowy  masses  ; 
And  to  this  claustral  twilight  bring 
The  sun's  profanest  glare. 


O  summer  day, 

Delay !   delay ! 
Let  naked  hill  and  bare  brown  field 

Parch  in  thy  torrid  ray, 
So  this  dim  nook  be  unrevealed, 

Where  I, 
Deliriously  concealed, 

Anions:  the  lilies  lie. 


The  delicate  I  lay-lilies  I 

The  white  and  wonderful  lilies  I 

My  dark  green  haunt  so  still 
The  wildest  birdling  dare  not  sing 
Nor  insect  beat  a  gossamer  wii 
\   r  zephyr  lift  the  lightest  thing, — 

Here,  where  the  lustrous  lili< 

The  clear,  resplendent  lilies, 
Pour  out  their  heaven]        eet  perfun 

And  with  their  snowiness, 
In  clusters  chaste,  illume 

This  dusk  recess. 

Soft-footed  Silence,  royal  nun  ! 

In  this  thy  humid,  emerald  cell 

Forever  dwell ! 
These  flowers  supernal  ever  shine, 
Pure-flamed,  before  thy  virgin  shrin- 
Here,  one  by  one, 

Tell  o'er  thy  glistering,  roral   beads,  — 

A  rosary  strung  on  tangled  weed-. 

And  blades  and  stems  that  intertwis 
The  breath  of  lilies  be  thy  prayei 
Sweetodored,  wafted  unawares 
Up  through  the  morning's  lucent  ail 

dlid  mb 
Ti         ittering  II  o'er  thee  pass, 


28  DAY-LILIES. 

Deep-pillowed  in  the  heavy  grass  ; 

These  broad,  smooth  lily-leaves  shall  be 

A  glossy  coverlet  for  thee, 

Thy  prayers  and  penance  done, 
O  royal  nun  ! 

By  day  or  night, 

In  dark  or  light, 
Thy  fragrant  shrine  shall  be  the  same  ; 

These  slender  tapers  lambent  still, 

Nor  blazing  sun,  nor  mildew  chill, 
Shall  quench  their  alabaster  flame. 

A  gleam,  as  of  a  crystal  wand ! 

And  Day  peers  in  with  curious  face  ; 
The  jealous  sunshine,  stealing  round, 

Doth  warily  chase 

The  cool,  dank  shadows  on  the  ground ; 
The  cloister-walls  no  longer  stand  \ 

A  garish  glory  fills  the  space, 
And  lights  the  lush  grass,  loose  and  long  ; 
And  startled  by  the  wild  bird's  song, 

Soft-footed  Silence  flees  apace ; 
But  still  serene  the  lilies  shine, 
Pure-flamed,  before  her  ruined  shrine  ! 


MY  WISH. 

II!         hi  wished  was  dream-fulfilled. 
And  when  I  woke  I  could  not  bear 
To  find  the  phantasy  of  sleep 
Had  vanished  in  the  morning  air. 

I  rose  and  slew  it  with  a  vow  :  — 

••  Vain  wish,  I  '11  cherish  thee  no  more  !  " 

I  flung  it  in  Oblivion's  stream 

And  saw  it  drifting  from  the  shore. 


Still  the  dark  waves  that  rolled  away 
Tossed  back  its  plaintive  moan  to  n 

As  up  from  Hebrus  rose  the  wail, 
•*  Eurydic         Eurydice  I 


THE  CRICKETS. 


gP^lIPE,  little  minstrels  of  the  waning  year, 
In  gentle  concert  pipe  ! 
Pipe  the  warm  noons  ;  the  mellow  har- 
vest near  • 
The  apples  dropping  ripe ; 


The  tempered  sunshine,  and  the  softened  shade  \ 

The  trill  of  lonely  bird  \ 
The  sweet  sad  hush  on  Nature's  gladness  laid  \ 

The  sounds  through  silence  heard ! 

Pipe  tenderly  the  passing  of  the  year ; 

The  summer's  brief  reprieve  ; 
The  dry  husk  rustling  round  the  yellow  ear  ; 

The  chill  of  dawn  and  eve  ! 


Pipe  the  untroubled  trouble  of  the  year  ; 

Pipe  low  the  painless  pain  ; 
Pipe  your  unceasing  melancholy  cheer ; 

The  year  is  in  the  wane  ! 


TO  A  SLEEPING  CHILI). 


JjOT  thus,  O  joyous  child,  repose, 

With  crossed  hands  on  thy  baby  breast 
rJBS    Pathetic  attitude  of  those 
Who  wake  not,  stir  not  from  their 


With  dimpled  arm  thy  head  surround, 
Like  as  a  bird  with  bonny  wing  ; 

Sure  as  a  bird  at  morn  to  bound 

From  this  thy  nest,  and,  bird-like,  sing 


THE  HOME  AMONG  THE  HILLS. 

IDWAY  between  these  towering  hills 

One  lonelv  human  dwelling  ; 
The  circling  acres,  culture  swept, 
Its  little  history  telling  ! 

On  either  hand  the  meadow  land 

Makes  fair  the  mountain  spaces 
With  golden  reach  of  buttercups 

And  silver  drift  of  daisies. 

Behind,  the  massive  forest  wall ; 

Before,  the  river  running  \ 
And  close  about  the  little  cot 

The  signs  of  human  cunning  : 

The  signs  so  homely  and  so  sweet 

That  draw  us  to  each  other, 
And  make  the  daily  life  of  man 

Familiar  to  his  brother. 

We  know  the  hand  at  early  morn 
That  cottage  hearth-fire  kindling  ; 


THE   HOME  AM  THE    HILL 

We  watched  the  droppii  corn  j 

We  wait  its  purple  spindli 

A  part  have  we  in  all  the  toils 

Of  these  our  mountain  neighbors 
A  portion  in  the  precioi         in 

Heaven  winnows  from  their  labor 

e  their  trials,  share   their  f< 
And,  with  a 
We  linger  even  while  we  g 

Their  choice,  their  lot  to  p  r. 

iid  the  grandeur  and  the  gloom 
On  every  hand  abidii 
A  flower  of  human  blossomii 
This  little  home  is  hiclii 


■&■ 


What  tender  wind  of  Providence 
The  small  seed  hither  drifted. 
Where  yet  these  shadow         >t  may  fall 
i  vill  uplifted  ? 

Less  a  m  those  hills  august, 

Less  lone  the  valle;       ;loominj 

Since  in  this  wild<  the  ro 

<  >f  human  life  is  bloomim. 


NOTHING   TO    DO. 

STRIP  of  snowiest  linen 

Half-broidered  and  stamped  in  blue, 
And  the  gleam  of  a  threadless  needle 
Piercing  the  pattern  through  : 
The  needle  is  ready,  yet  the  sweet  little  lady 
Sits  sighing  for  something  to  do. 

Heaped  on  the  table  beside  her 

Blossoms  of  everv  hue  ; 
Delicate,  odorous  roses  — 

The  rarest  that  ever  grew  : 
The  vase  stands  ready  while  the  sweet  little  lady 

Sits  wishing  for  something  to  do. 


Half  hid  under  flowers  a  volume 

In  daintiest  gold  and  blue, 
Just  parted,  as  if  it  would  open 

At  "  The  Miller's  Daughter  "  for  you  : 
The  book  lies  ready,  yet  the  sweet  little  lady 

Sits  sighing  for  something  to  do. 


NOTHING    TO  . 

A  silent  harp  in  the  corner, 

And  melodies  old  and  new 

attered  in  pretty  disorder  — 

So  of  the  false  and  the  tru« 

The  harp  stands  ready  —  .still  the  sweet  little  lady 
S    -        ging  for  something  to  do. 

A  sudden  wind-sweep  and  flutter  — 

The  door  wide  open  blev 
A  step  in  the  hall,  and  swiftly. 

Like  a  bird,  to  the  threshold  she  tlew  : 
Blushing,  already  the  sweet  little  lady 

1  -  she  lias  nothing  to  do ! 


DIFFERENCE. 


HERE  are  sorrowful  eyes  that  seldom  weep: 
Hearts  that  in  speechless  patience  keep 
Vigils  of  anguish  while  seeming  to  sleep. 


There  are  yearning  eyes  that  a  thought  may  fill ; 
Hearts  that  cry  out  against  their  will, 
And  only  in  breaking  learn  to  be  still. 


HELIOTROPE. 

WEE  rES  I '.  swe<         Heliotrope 
In  the  sunset's  dying  splendor, 

In  the  trance  of  twilight  tender, 
I  my  senses  I  surrender, 

^nbtle  spells  that  bind  me  : 
The  dim  air  swimmeth  in  nr.  it 

With  vision-       gue  of  soft  delight  ; 

hadowy  hands  with  endless  chain 
Of  purple-clustered  bloom  enwind  me  : 
Garlands  drenched  in  dreamy  rain 
Of  perfume  passional         sorrow 
And  sad  as  Love's  to-morrov 
Bewildering  music  tills  mine  ears  — 
Faint  laughter  and  commingling  tears  — 
Mowing  like  delicious  pain 
Through  my  drowsy  brain. 
Bosomed  in  the  blissful  gloom  — 

M        us  I  sink  on  slumberous  >lope 
Buried  deep  in  purple  bloom. 

swe<        Heliotrope  I 


3§  HELIOTROPE. 

Undulates  the  earth  beneath  me  ; 

Still  the  shadow-hands  enwreath  me, 
And  clouds  of  faces  half  defined, 

Lovely  and  fantastical, 

Sweet  —  O  sweet  !  —  and  strange  withal, 
Sweeping  like  a  desert  wind 
Across  my  vision  leave  me  blind ! 

Subtler  grows  the  spell  and  stronger  • 
What  enchantments  weird  possess  me  — 
Now  uplift  me,  now  oppress  me  I 

Do  I  feast,  or  do  I  hunger  ! 
Is  it  bliss,  or  is  it  anguish  ! 

Is  it  Auster's  treacherous  breath 

Kissing  me  with  honeyed  death, 
While  I  sicken,  droop,  and  languish  ! 

Still  I  feel  my  blood's  dull  beat 
In  my  head  and  hands  and  feet  : 

Struggling  faintly  with  thy  sweetness, 

Heliotrope  !  Heliotrope  ! 
Give  me  back  my  strength's  completeness. 
Must  I  pine  and  languish  ever  ! 
Wilt  thou  loose  mv  senses  never ! 
Wilt  thou  bloom  and  bloom  for  ever, 
O  Lethean  Heliotrope  ! 

Ah,  the  night-wind,  freshly  blowing, 


H 

id  blood  a-flowing 

I  revive  !  — 

I  ipe  thy  spells  ali\ 

•  ••••»••• 

Flow<  I  love  and  do  not  love  thee  ; 

II  >ld  my  breath,  hut  bend  above  the 

rush  thy  buds,  yet  bid  them  ope 
veetest  Heliotrope  ! 


THE    COAT. 

ERCURIUS  wove  a  coat 

Of  the  finest  thread  of  wit ; 
"Wear  it,"  he  said  to  his  jesting  friends, 
"  You  whom  the  coat  may  fit." 


Now  he  to  whose  lot  it  fell 

Sore-envied  all  the  rest, 
For  strange  to  say  it  gave  the  least  ease 

To  him  whom  it  fitted  best. 


THE    FAIRY  TAPER 

\'K  me  all  the  stars  of  night 
Thick  clustering  make  the  darkness  bright  ; 
And  in  the  darkling         \  belo 
out  with  swift,  responsive  glow 

A  tiny,  steadfast,  lucid  ray  ; 
on  as  swiftly  dies  away. 

Again  it  comes  ;  again  it  goe 

And  still  with  equal  lustre  glow-. 

—  Now  I  bethink  me  'tis  the  light 

Of  some  sweet  fairy  of  the  night ; 

A  taper-flame  of  emerald  hue 

Put  out  by  silver  showers  of  dew  I 

But  0  the  invisible  hands  that  bear 

The  fairy  candlestick  in  air, — 

To  see  them  strike  the  fair         at 

And  lift  the  flame  in  mortal  sight. 

To  guide  her  hastening  lover  tr 

The  forest  of  the  )  through  ! 

ter  yet  an  fall  you  must, 
Small  dew  that  1.  .  iry  dust 


42  THE   FAIRY   TAPER. 

Oft  as  you  quench  her  lovely  light 

This  little  lady  of  the  night 

Will  still  renew  the  gem-like  flame 

That  hour  by  hour  will  burn  the  same  ; 

While  lover  fond  and  lady  true 

Defy  the  darkness  and  the  dew ! 

"  Who  told  you  ?  "  (whispered  in  my  ear) 
A  little  Glow-worm  told  me,  dear ! 


SON 

OMORROW  has  trouble  to  lend 
To  all  who  lack  to-day  ; 
Go,  borrow  it  —  borrow,  griefless  heart, 

An  thou  with  thy  peace  wilt  pa] 


To-morrow  has  trouble  to  lend  — 

An  endless,  endless  store  ; 
But  I  have  as  much  as  heart  can  hold  — 

Why  should  I  borrow  more ! 


A    GLIMPSE    OF  HEAVEN. 


HE  clouds  are  breaking  —  radiant  scene  ! 
Blue,  blue  as  only  heaven  is  blue  — 
The   heaven    that     Heaven     itself    smiles 
through 

Unfolds  its  depths  serene. 


O  fair  as  Hope  the  rainbow  gleams 
The  tempest's  angry  frown  above, 
But  lovely  as  the  Face  of  Love 

Yon  revelation  seems  ! 


TO  THE  BLUE  GENTIAN. 


\1<  >LD,  < I  Fairest  Flower,  and  share 
The  benediction  of  this  air 
l<B&^       That  softly  floweth  everywhei 

And  blesseth  most  the  things  most  fair  I 

Twice  welcome  flowers  when  flowers  grow  few  ; 
Thrice  welcome,  thou,  of  heavenly  hue  — 
The  rarest,  tenderest  shade  of  blue 
That  Earth's  dear  bosom  ever  knew  ! 

The  Golden  Rod  resigns  his  plum 
And  all  frail  beauty  seeks  a  tomb, 
Bequeathing  thee  more  ample  room 
Wherein  to  set  thy  fairer  bloom. 

Infold,  thy  gent'        Jit  to  claim, 
ver  of  softest  tint  and  Dame 
Thy  bashful ness  delays  like  sham 

Vet  lovelier  makes  thy  I  ane. 


46  TO    THE  BLUE    GENTIAN. 

To  exile  only  half-resigned, 
Her  locks  with  violet-memories  twined, 
Departing  Summer  turns  to  find 
How  fair  a  thing  she  leaves  behind. 

And  since  the  Summer  henceward  flies, 
Thou,  darling  of  these  lonely  skies, 
The  dearer  art  to  human  eyes, 
Unfolding  as  a  sweet  surprise  ! 


THE   LOVELY  SLEEPER. 

O  s         -  soft  vapors  make 
This  glory  round  her  head? 
What  ang     =  would  not  Heaven  forsake 

To  watch  so  fair  a  I 


stan         ind  most  pui 
Descend  in  hushed  arra 

ay  !  lest  ye  should  come  to  lure 
This  purer  one  awa 


IN  AUTUMN. 


HE  cool,  bright  days, 
The  calm,  bright  days, 
With  their  liberal-hearted  noons  ! 
The  clear,  still  nights, 
The  restful  nights, 
With  their  greatening  harvest-moons  ; 
And  the  ghostly  rustle  of  withered  corn 
Plucked  of  its  ivory  ears  and  shorn 
Of  the  floating  fringes  that  tossed  and  swayed 
When  the  ripening  summer' zephyr  played 
Through  the  ranks  that  shone  in  the  summer  morn 
The  beautiful  corn  ! 


TN  AUTUMN.  49 

The  golden  days !  the  golden  days  ! 

Warm  with  sunshine  and  dreamy  with  haze 
Warm  with  the  sunshine  and  cool  with  the  breeze  ! 
like  troops  of  tropical  butterflies 
Clouds  of  leaves  from  the  gorgeous  trees 

Flutter  and  fall, 
And  cover  the  earth  with  splendid  dyes 
Matching  the  marvels  of  sunset  skk 
Swell  beyond  swell  the  hills  uplift  — 
The  hills  serene  ; 
Slope  beyond  slope  they  ebb  awa 
Into  the  distance  azure-gray  ; 
And  over  them  all, 

Through  veils  of  amethyst  vaguely  seen 
M  J  lights  incessantly  shift, 

Moved  by  the  wonder  hands  of  Day  — 
Over  the  hills  serene  ! 

No  ripple  breaks 
'   The  lucid  lakes 
Up  from  whose  margins  the  gay  banks  climb  — 
Into  whose  deeps  the  shadows  descend 
Like  sunken  gardens  in  their  prime. 
Whose  softly-pictured  terraces  end 
In  emerald  grottoes  where  Naiads  dream 
While  the  unstirred  rushes  over  them  stream. 
4 


50  IN  AUTUMN. 

From  the  woodbine  draping  the  cottage  thatch 
The  wandering  winds  as  they  pass, 
Tenderly,  one  by  one,  detach 
Leaves  of  crimson  that  flame  in  the  sun  : 

One  by  one, 
Slowly  downward  they  waver,  and  twirl, 
And  alight  on  the  trampled  grass. 
Day  by  day  the  vine-leaves  curl 
Revealing  the  heavily-hanging  grapes 
In  tempting  clusters  of  rarest  shapes, 

That  out  of  the  heart  of  summer  grew  ; 
Dusky-purple  and  amber-white, 
Warmed  in  the  nooning  and  cooled  in  the  ni^ht, 

Mingled  of  honey,  and  sunlight,  and  dew. 
The  breeze  through  the  orchard-alley  sweeps, 
And  russet-brown  leaves  in  dusty  heaps 

Eddy  and  whirl  ; 
And  russet-brown  apples,  and  rosy-cheeked, 
Fall  from  the  ruddy  half-rifled  bough, 
Strewing  the  grassy  patch 
With  its  footpath  trail  below, 
Where  the  bare-headed,  sun-burnt  farmer's  girl 
Gathers  the  fairest  and  leaves  the  rest 
For  the  gold-brown  bee  in  his  honey  quest, 
And  the  zealous  ants  that  busily  swarm 
Over  the  bruises  mellow  and  warm  ; 
While  chicks  full  feathered  and  yellow-beaked 


IX  AUTUM  5  I 

Roam  in  the  sunshine  and  leisurely  scratch 
ft  the  helpless  worm  withdrawing  its  coil 
I  a        into  the  loosened  soil. 

Streaming  in  at  the  wide  barn  door 
Warm  lies  the  sun  on  the  well-worn  floor 
Scattered  with  v.  of  straw  and  grain 

From  the  generous  wain. 
Heaped  high  as  the  rafters  the  sweet-smelling  hay 
O'erha        the  bursting  loft, 
And  a  breath  from  the  orchard  croft 
Mirs  the  loosened  spears,  and  they  drop  away 
Noiselessly-soft ! 

The  mellow  days  !  the  mellow  daj 
The  brown  seed  ripens  and  bursts  the  po 

The  brown  seed  ripens,  the  stem  decays, 
1  he  black  root  rotting  under  the  sod. 
The  lattice  o'er-str.:_  faded  vines 

Leans  to  its  fall, 
And  here  and  there  by  the  garden  wall 
And  beside  the  late-neglected  walks, 
Amid  blackened  weeds  and  moulderi;  ilks, 

Where  the  rly  in  his  mail  of  emerald  shin   s, 

Fl(         S  of  garish  beauty  bloom 

Like  torches  that  flare  at  the  mouth  of  a  tomb. 
Phantom         rammer,  silver  fair, 


52  IN  AUTUMN. 

Peacefully  restless  through  the  air 
With  the  unseen  currents  that  softly  flow 
Drifts  the  thistle-down  to  and  fro. 

The  yellow  days  !  the  yellow  days! 
Fields  of  stubble  and  naked  ways  ! 
The  year's  last  gold 
On  the  uttermost  bough 
Flutters  mournfully  now  ! 
The  sumach  that  burned  like  the  bush  of  old 

Is  almost  stripped  of  its  fire ; 
And  trampled  out  by  the  rains  that  beat 
The  sodden  paths  with  their  million  feet  , 
The  last  bright  hues  expire  ! 


"VIVE   LA   RE  INK." 


ITH  the  Robin  for  poet-laureate, 
And  the  May-flowers  for  her  train. 
And  her  innocence  for  her  robe  of  - 
The  baby  began  her  reign. 


The  pretty  head  with  its  curly  crown 
Knows  nothing  of  royal  woes  ; 

For  love  is  softer  than  eider-down, 
And  yieldeth  her  sweet  repose. 


There  are  loval  and  loving  hearts  alone 

In  the  wee  one's  fair  domain  ; 
And  they  make  the  Robin's  song  their  own, 


For  he  singeth,  "Vive  la  Reine  ! 


■• 


GOOD  NEWS  ! 

BEE  flew  in  at  rav  window, 

And  circled  around  my  head  ; 
He  came  like  a  herald  of  summer-time, 
And  what  do  you  think  he  said  ? 

"  As  sure  as  the  roses  shall  blossom  "  — 

These  are  the  words  he  said  — 
"  As  sure  as  the  gardens  shall  laugh  in  pride, 

And  the  meadows  blush  clover-red  ; 

"  As  sure  as  the  golden  robin 

Shall  build  her  a  swinging  nest, 
And  the  captured  sunbeam  lie  fast-locked 
In  the  marigold's  burning  breast ; 

';  As  sure  as  the  water-lilies 
Shall  float  like  a  fairy  fleet  : 
As  sure  as  the  torrent  shall  leap  the  rocks 
With  foamy,  fantastic  feet ; 


WD  NEW 

is  sure  as  the  bobolink's  carol 
And  the  plaint  of  the  whippoorwill 

Shall  gladden  the  morning,  and  sadden  the  night, 
And  the  crickets  pipe  loud  and  shrill  ; 

"So  sure  to  the  heart  of  the  maiden 
Who  hath  loved  and  sorrowed  long. 
Glad  tidii        hall  bring  the  summer  of  joy 
With  bursting  of  blossom  and  song  !  " 

A  seer  as  well  as  a  herald  ! 

For  while  I  sat  weeping  to-day. 
The  tenderest,  cheeriest  letter  came 
From  Lionel  far  away. 

Good  news  !   O  little  bee-prophet. 

Your  words  I  will  never  fo: 
It  may  be  foolish  —  that  dear,  old  sign  — 

But  Lionel  \s  true  to  me  vet  I 


ROSE  AND  THORX. 


£9MEff    HEARD  Philosophy  sigh, 

Mi     "No  rose  is  without  its  thorn  ;" 
&S&\  And  Faith  made  sweet  reply, 


"  Of  thorns  are  the  roses  born  ! " 


li 


WOMAN. 
1862. 


*¥S^S   though    no    shade    of   human    wrong    fell 
^tolI  darkly  on  their  beaut}-. 

And   all    men   walked    in    brotherhood    the 
shining  ways  of  duty. 
The  blessed  summer  days  glide  by  in  calm  and  sweet 

succession  ; 
God  writes  on  Nature's   palace-walls  no  curse  agaii 
oppression. 


The  strong  man  arms  him  for  the  Tight  ;  he  hears  t he- 
bugle  calling  ; 
.d  while  between  the  patriot-shouts  her  tears    have 
time  for  falling, 

Pale  woman  plies  the  threaded  steel,  nor    si  i    her 

lips  to  singing 

But  still  with  every  stitch    she    draws  the    pearls    of 
prayer  is  stringii 


60  WOMAN. 

She  thinks  of  those  whose  wounds  are  fresh ;  of  those 
in  death-sleep  lying, 

Whose  brows  of  youth  and  manhood  won  their  bright- 
est crowns  in  dying  ; 

She  thinks  of  others  brave  and  true,  hid  in  the  smoke 
of  battle, 

Where  bayonets  gleam,  and  cannon  roar,  and  bullets 
hiss  and  rattle. 


She  shudders  while  the  words  of  fate  along  the  wires 
are  chasing, 

Or  trembling  waits  the  hurried  line  some  comrade 
may  be  tracing ; 

Her  heart  grows  faint ;  she  lifts  her  hands  in  an- 
guished imploration : 

"  God  save  my  soldier !  "  first  she  prays,  and  then, 
"  God  save  the  nation  !  " 


And  when   she  moans  :  K  The   very    thought   of  loss 

doth  overcome  me  !  " 
Crying :  "  If  it  be  possible,  O,  let  this  cup  pass  from 

me!" 
God  chides  her  not  if,  choked  with  sobs,  she  adds  to 

her  petition 
But  brokenly  Christ's  after-words  of  meekness  and 

submission. 


WOMAN. 

He  saw  her  pale  with  victory  in    the    dirk    hour   of 

trial, 
When  Self  lay  slain,  and  sorrowing  Lo\         is  fettered 

with  denial  ; 
id  the  Divine  One  who  alone  can    clearly  read  the 

human, 
Traces  th  autograph  though  tear-blots  of  the 

Woman. 


ABRAHAM    LINCOLN. 


1865. 


$$^^$t  EST,  rest  for  him  whose  noble  work  is  done  ; 
For  him  who  led  us  gently  unaware 


Till  we  were  readier  to  do  and  dare 
For  Freedom,  and  her  hundred  fields  were  won. 

His  march  is  ended  where  his  march  began  : 
More  sweet  his  sleep  for  toil  and  sacrifice, 
And  that  rare  wisdom  whose  beginning  lies 

In  fear  of  God  and  charity  for  man  : 

And  sweetest  for  the  tender  faith  that  grew 

More  strong  in  trial,  and  through  doubt  more  clear, 
Seeing  in  clouds  and  darkness  One  appear 

In  whose  dread  name  the  Nation's  sword  he  drew  . 


Rest,  rest  for  him;  and  rest  for  us  to-day 

Whose  sorrow  shook  the  land  from  east  to  west 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN.  r>3 

When  slain  by  Tn  n  the  Nation's  breast 

Her  martyr  breathed  his  steadfast  soul  away. 

(  I  fervent  heart  !  f)  cool  and  patient  head  ' 
I  I  shoulders  broad  to  bear  all  others'  blam< 
Mercy  disguised  herself  beneath  his  name. 

And  Justice  through  his  lips  like  Pity  plead. 

His  truth  could  snare  the  wiliest  of  the  earth  \ 
His  wit  out'        i  the  ponderous  debate 
By  sneers  unvexed.  in  triumph  unelate, 

He  stood  our  chief  in  place,  our  chief  in  worth. 

Behold.  (  >  kingdoms  of  the  world,  behold 
(  I  mighty  powers  beyond  the  swelling  wa\ 
How  fast  as  rain  on  his  untitled  gra\ 

The  tears  of  millions  mingle  with  the  mould  ! 

Such  love  a  prince  might  crave,  such  homage  seek 
The  people's  love  that  clothed  him  like  a  ki; 
The  grateful  trust  those  hands  v.  wift  to  bring 

Whose  hr-  fetters  of  deliverar,       speak. 

1  our  \  i  unknown  —  t  how  dear  I 

that  tried  him  with  a  century's  strain, 
While  Tn        i  led  his  wretched  hosts  in  vain 
id  turned  Assassin  when  1.  om  was  near. 


64 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN. 


Four  little  years  whose  space  a  thought  may  span  ; 
A  niche  in  Time's  vast  hall  where  he  doth  stand, 
To  win  applause  in  every  age  and  land, 

"  The  noblest  work  of  God  —  an  honest  man." 


Ill 


ALL   IN   ALL. 

II.  can  we  see  or  can  we  hear 
The  streams  of  Being  flowing  clear. 

That  day  by  day,  and  year  by  year, 
In  lesser  being  swift  appear? 

God  hideth  all  —  Himself  most  dread 

In  light  and  silence  garment* 

The  shining  days  I Ii^  records  keej 

The  nights  1 1  is  scattered  splendors  reap; 
His  crystal  chamber  is  the  deep  : 
II  T-thrown  shade  createth  ski    . 

Hills  at  ILs  touch  give  flame  for  Ham 

The  -  ft  thunders  roll  His  Name. 


walks  the  viewless  wav 
The  wild  be  J  in  their  lair, 

Witl  share, 

And  all  things  living  crowd  His  <   U 

I  [e  knoweth  neithei  -mall 

\\  All  ib  Love,  whos    L  >ve  is  All ! 


68  ALL   IN  ALL. 

Fair  round  His  feet  the  flocks  repose  ; 

He  breathes,  and  desert  springs  unclose  ; 

The  mountain  drops  its  crown  of  snows  ; 

The  wilderness  reveals  its  rose ; 
Even  the  senseless  rock  is  drest 
For  joy  of  Him  in  mossy  vest. 

He  is  not  to  these  mortal  eyes, 
And  yet  He  is  !  the  glad  Earth  cries 
Exulting  with  exultant  skies  : 
He  is  !  the  thankful  spirit  sighs, 

Nor  darkening  space  divides  for  Him 
The  sons  of  men  from  Seraphim. 

Unseen  He  breaks  the  daily  bread 
Wherewith  our  living  souls  are  fed ; 
We  know  not  when  He  lifts  our  head, 
Nor  how  the  heart  is  comforted. 
We  only  know  the  cloud  of  sin 
From  His  pure  Presence  shuts  us  in. 

He  speaks  ;  —  our  hearts  within  us  burn  ; 
In  their  unrest  we  slowly  learn 
The  sweet  constraint  of  our  return 
To  Love  that  for  its  own  doth  vearn. 

From  Him  we  came  —  to  Him  we  go  ; 

Life  ebbs  for  Life's  Eternal  Flow. 


QUICKEN  THOU  -MI 

HE  thorn  is  budding  into  lift*    g   in, 

The   quickened  vine  puts  out  its  tender 
shoot 

The  warm,  warm  sunshine,  and  the  cool,  cool  rain 
Feeding  their  hidden  root>. 


eet  Spirit,  entering  where  no  eve  cap 
Reach  this  poor  heart  in  all  its  waiting  need. 
And  like  the  thorn  and  vine  my  life  shall  be 
When  Thou  its  roots  dost  feed. 


THE  DIVINE  LOVE. 

PATIENT  GOD,  whom  men  forsake, 
All- kind,  all-gracious  as  Thou  art, 

How  soon  our  faithlessness  would  break 
A  human  heart ! 


How  vast  must  be  the  Love  so  strong, 

Its  yearning,  O  how  fathomless, 
That  sin  prolonged  should  yet  prolong 
Thy  tenderness ! 

Though  we  may  slight  that  Love  with  doubt, 
Thy  paths  of  sweet  commandment  spurn, 
Thou  wilt  in  nowise  cast  him  out 
Who  would  return  ! 


The  uttermost  Thy  Love  doth  reach ; 

And  O  the  pathos  of  its  cry, 
All  humbled  to  our  human  speech :  — 
"  Why  will  ye  die  ?  " 


TIN  VINE   LOVi 

W  lot  Thy  wide  compassion  moi 

Than  even  all  the  |  n, 

These  feet  would  never  find  Thy  I  I 
And  enter  in. 

We  ^>ee  Thee  as  the  suffering  Christ 

With  Cross  and  Passion  bowed  down  ; 
meanest  things  for  Thee  sufficed, 

And  Sorrow's  crown, 

[fonly  famished  souls  might  fl< 

I  ife's  husks  for  Love's  1  ternal  Feast, 

And  all  might  dwell  in  bliss  with  Thee, — 
The  very  le. 

11  Lord,  we  repent !  "...  -  Lord,  we  believe        .  .  . 
Ami  Thou  acceptest  even  thi 
And  faithless  wanderers  wilt  receive 

With  heavenly  k 

OL  —  we  sink  from  Thine  eml 

Thy  feet  to  kiss  for  evermon 
The  humblest  is  tfa        est  pla< 

When  souls  adoi 


AS  THOU  WILT. 


|^JtJ;^|T  is  so  sweet  to  live 

My  little  life  to-dav, 
That  I  would  never  leave  it,  if 


I  might  forever  stay  !  — 
I  sometimes  say. 

I  am  so  weary,  Lord, 

I  would  lie  down  for  aye, 
Could  I  but  hear  Thee  speak  the  word 

"  Thy  sins  are  washed  away  !  "  — 

I  sometimes  say. 

The  better  mood  that  lies 

These  moods  between  midway, 

Comes  softly,  and  I  lift  my  eyes  : 
"  Lord,  as  Thou  wilt !  "  I  pray  \ 
And  would  alwav. 


SILENC 

(  >D'S  Silenc         HoV       speech  that  is, 

Is  but  a  dew-fall  out  of  thi 
And  human  Love's  own  tongues  of  bl 
it  broken  lang     ^e  caught  from  II 

Why  should  we  question,  though  our  cry  — 
"  Lord  hear  me  —  answer,  or  I  di       '  — 
Seems  echoed  from  an  empty  sk\ 
He  i       - —  He  ans*         itter'. 

tt  Lord,  answer  I  *       And  with  shuddering  breath, 
As  those  already  doomed  to  death, 
We  wait  for  Him  who  rescueth 
The  very  bird  that  perisheth. 

O  "d  of  doubt,  two-edged  with  pain, 

That  cuts  the  quivering       irt  in  twain  I 

As  if   His  I-  I  ould  ever  \\ 

As  if  our  cry  could  be  in  vain  I 


74  GOD'S  SILENCE. 

His  Silence  !  once,  indeed,  it  brake 
With  Love's  great  stress,  when  He  did  take 
A  mortal  guise  for  Love's  sweet  sake, 
And  spake  as  never  mortal  spake. 


Since  He  his  own  Divine  did  blend 
With  Human  in  that  Saviour-Friend, 
That  we  enough  might  comprehend 
His  Love,  to  trust  Him  to  the  end  ; 

And,  guided  by  His  perfect  care, 
Find  all  dark  Dlaces  everv where 
Wind  upward,  a  celestial  stair 
To  Love's  own  heights,  divinely  fair  ; 

He  must  forever  bless  ;  and  aye, 

At  the  dear  break  of  Heaven's  sweet  day, 

Wipe  all  earth's  bitter  tears  away, 

And  give  us  more  than  heart  can  pray  ! 

O,  should  He  speak,  and  could  we  guess 
That  Tongue  of  Infinite  Tenderness, 
His  Silence  still  would  more  express 
His  I^ove's  unspeakable  excess  I 


••  1  .  TROUBLED  SOUL." 

WEE  I    gr  ms  the  world  to-day  and  fair, 

-   en   through  the   Spring-time's  1 
sheen  — 
A  tender  mist  of  golden-green, 

That  veils  the  earth  and  fills  the  air. 

And  lightly,  softly  blows  the  bree. 
With  blossom-odors  interblent, 
And  interwoven  with  their  scent. 

The  murmurous  hum  of  golden  bees. 

And  mingling  with  their  braided  balm, 
A  voice  of  dreamy  sweetr 
II  ilf  is,  in  plaintive  che 

A  strain  that  linketh  calm  with  calm. 

-  heart  mine  own  I 
u  Peace,  troubled  soul,"  she  soft  entr 
M  Peace,  troubled  soul."  the 

In  the  low  psalm  that  suits  me 


7^  "PEACE,   TROUBLED  SOUL." 

And  through  the  mist  of  faith  I  see 
A  vision  fair  of  One  who  stands 
And  stretches  out  His  pierced  hands, 

Saying,  "My  peace  I  give  to  thee." 


IX  THE  GARD1 


5"  X  this  still  garden  in  the  cool  of  day 

I  often  meditate  :  — 
Should    He   who  walked    in  tl   come 

tl<  iv 

And  o  rate 

This  place  of  bloom  with  Presence  ;  g  fair 

d  ro         that  make  more  sweet  this  summer  air! 

ion  a  Voice  far  off  yet  near  I  catch, 
And  question,  —  Comes  He  n 
The  virgin  lilies  that  for  Him  keep  watch 

i  lowly  bow. 
And  the  meek  \  lowl:  t  to  gn 

His  >oft  appro  ind  reverent  ki>s  11  t. 

for  me  who  cannot  see  Him  ;   lss 
\  uld  feel  1  Iim  i 

I  bow  me  lowlier  i  than  the 

In  love  and  feai .  — 
1  ar  lowlier  than  the  lili<  thei  a, 

id   through  them   p:  to  touch    II 

hem 


IN   THE  GARDEN. 

More  softlv  blows  the  summer  wind  to  lift 

His  mantle's  sacred  fold  ; 
Through  all  the  place  sweet  sighs  and  odors  drift 

Like  bliss  half-told ; 
And  in  the  fading  west  a  single  star 
Trembles  with  rapture  watching  Him  afar  ! 

And  O  that  I  should  see  that  star  remote 

Yet  His  near  Glory  miss 
Wherein  the  sun  itself  and  stars  do  float 

As  motes,  I  wis  ! 
But  since  no  man  that  Glory  could  abide 
How  should  I  dare  lament  the  sight  denied  ! 

—  Dark,  hushed  and  dark,  the  garden  round  me 

grows. 

The  folded  flowers  more  sweet ; 
I  hearken  long  to  hear  Him  where  He  goes 

With  noiseless  feet, 
Till  the  familiar  place  seems  sad  and  strange 
And  Eden  to  Gethsemane  doth  change. 

Through  heavy  silence  falls  the  heavy  dew, 

Like  sweat  of  sorrow  wrung, 
As  if  the  bitter  cup  were  filled  anew 

O'er  which  He  hung. 
Whose  Love,  all  love  transcending,  overcame  — 
For  us  endured  the  Cross,  despised  the  shame  ! 


IN   THE   GARDEN. 

Albeit  against  That  Pres  -y 

I  ;.;  se  mortal  eyes  arc  scaled, 

1  see  This  Other,  like  Him,  standing       h. 

I    )  Faith  revealed  : 

A:  i  [is  dear  feet  on  consecrated  » 

I  cry  like  one  of  old  :  "  My  Lord  —  m 


HID  WITH  CHRIST. 

LESSED  Lord,  in  me  fulfill 
Thv  most  sweet,  most  holv  Will  ; 
From  mine  own  that  worketh  ill 
Rescue  me  ! 


Thou,  O  Christ,  my  covert  made 
I,  of  sin  alone  afraid  — 
Keep  me  henceforth  unbetrayed, 
Hid  with  Thee  ! 

There  may  self  be  crucified, 
Dying,  Lord,  as  Thou  hast  died, 
That  Thy  Name  be  glorified 
Even  in  me. 


Sharp  the  pangs,  but  pangs  are  brief; 
Death  of  self  is  death  of  grief; 
Conqueror  Thou  of  Conquerors  Chief, 
Smite  Thou  me  ! 


HID   WITH  CHRIST.  s'l 

-   Thou  hast  lain, 
Victor,  Victor  yet  again, 

>m  the  warri        reature  slain 
Raise  Thou  me  ! 


Quickened  with  the  Life  Divil 
Then  indeed  shalt  Thou  enshrine 
(Love  in  Love  !)  this  life  of  mine 
Hid  with  The 

Rot  no  joy  of  earth  can  bring. 
Peace  that  takes  from  pain  the  sting, 
Triumph  over  everything 

Not  of  Thee  ;  — 

This,  O  blessed  Lord,  my  gain, 

the  life  no  more  to  wane 
Vocal  with  this  one  refrain  : 
u  Praise  to  Thee 


THE    LOWEST  PLACE. 

OT  that  I  may  be  chiefest.  Lord, 
But  that  I  may  obey 
More  closely  Thy  most  sweet  commands, 
Teach  me  to  serve,  I  pray. 

Not  that  I  may  be  honored  more 

Who  am  indeed  the  least, 
I  would  the  lowest  place  like  one 

Grace-bidden  to  the  feast ; 


"But  that  Thy  smile,  my  blessed  Lord, 

Might  reach  that  lowest  place, 
And  show  me,  though  the  last  and  least, 


The  fullness  of  that  grace. 


THE    M<  )\"K    <  >i     LA    TRAPP1 

\\'I  I  AT  abounding  _ 

Of  on  i-  id 

WI  us  wound  in  lieu       speech  did 

bleed 
lS  if  even  Nature's  self  for  him  Mould  plead)  ; 
Who  mid  his  silent  brethren  silent  went 

/try  j        s  on  prayer  and  labor  bent, 
nmindful  of  his  misery  >o  he  still 
Shaped  every  d  md  thought  to  God's  dear  will ; 

he  his  bed  of  knotted  straw 
Who         rils  sore  the  Master  onlv  saw  : 
N  >r  looked  forward  to  the  ashen  heap 
Whereon  the  dying  brethren  fell  on  sleep  — 

tinting  them  or  ere  tfa         ined  th-         d 
With  tl.  kindred  dust  whe 

Nor  fasti  lor  penance  he  rel.i 

.   for  the  1 
I  a  whit  the  \  or  the 

Th  with  calm  whil  w  his 

urn  .i 
The  pui 


84  THE  MONK  OF  LA    TRAPPE. 

In  snatch  of  wretched  sleep  his  chastened  will 
Restrained  the  groan,  o'ercame  the  anguish,  still  \ 
And  if  perchance  that  sleep  his  lips  unsealed 
Their  words  of  peace  his  sharpest  pangs  concealed. 

But  when  the  oozing  blood  for  him  complained, 

And  half-betrayed  his  woe  the  raiment  stained, 

The  quick-eyed  Abbot  bade  the  surgeon  speed 

Whose  skillful  hand  might  serve  his  piteous  need. 

Compassionate  the  sufferer  they  bound, 

"While  wept  the  mute  attendants  standing  round 

As  the  bared  back  disclosed  the  blackening  wound. 

"  Thus  bind  him,  fast !  "  the  surgeon  whispered  low  ; 

"  Not  else  might  he  endure  the  mortal  woe  ! ? 

While  they  through  tears  beheld  the  fearful  sight 

The  poor  monk  raised  a  face  of  saintly  light ; 

"  Not  of  myself,"  he  said,  "  but  God  is  here 

To  hold  me  that  I  neither  shrink  nor  fear." 

Then  even  as  Death's  own  shadow7  in  the  cell 

On  him,  on  all,  the  wonted  silence  fell ; 

Only  a  dripping  on  the  floor  of  brick 

As  the  sharp  knife  swift  pierced  to  the  quick  : 

No  shudder  felt,  no  moan  repressed  betrayed 

The  spirit  fainting  or  the  flesh  afraid. 

"  O  holy  father,  he  must  speak  or  die  ! 
Command  these  lips  to  utter  forth  their  cry  I ' 


THE  M  LA    TRAP! 

Implored  tl  d,  with  a  whitening  ch< 

"Speak,  ( >  my  brother,  speak  I  I  Wtfthee  speak  I  " 
With  streamin  pitying  Abl       said  — 

As  it  were  his  own  quivering  flesh  that  hied  ! 

The  ashen  lips  almost  a  smile  entrano 

And  from  the  eye  unearthly  rapture  glanced. 

As  his  uplifted  face  like  Stephen's  glowed. 

And  from  his  tor.        in  heavenly  utterance  flowed  : — 

Mv  I.  Lord  !  that  Thou    should'st  raise  me 

up, 
And  suffer  me  to  t         Thy  measureless  cup 

Of  agony,  and  in  som  >r  deg 

Learn  how  all-measureless  Thy  Love  must  be 

O  wondrous  riches  by  the  poorest  gained  ! 

O  heights  no  rapture  ever  yet  attained  ! 

O  depths  beyond  all  human  thought  to  reach! 

Love  pa  >wledge  as  it  passeth  speech! 

That  I  should  see  the  glory  of  Thy  Face 

While  yet  vile  clay  in  thi  I  p  1  a « 

(  »  all -trans  _  Love  !  ( )  matchh  \ ! 

Thri<  ie  that  may  spell 

)t  of  these  pangs  but  of  That  Love 

ike  back  in  their  arms  he  fell, 
I   I  >    itl  '•  n  radiance  tilled  the  narrow  cell  ! 


PASS    LIGHTLY,    EARTH. 

11  He  that  spared  not  His  own  Son,  but  delivered  Him  up  for  us  all.  how 
shall  He  not  with  Him  also  freely  give  us  all  things  ?  "  —  Romans  viii.  32. 

ASS  lightly,  Earth,  with  all  thy  joy, 
Yea,  lightly  pass  with  all  thy  grief; 
Thy  pleasantness  and  thine  annoy, 
Why  should  we  brood  on  things  so  brief! 

Why  waste  the  longing  or  the  tear 
That  Heaven  alone  can  fill  or  claim  ! 

All  that  hereafter  will  be  dear 

Is  gathered  in  one  precious  Name  : 

Love  that  can  never  know  decay  ; 

Joy  that  will  never  tire  nor  wane ; 
Rest  that  will  grow  more  sweet  for  aye 

Through  deep  forgetful ness  of  pain  \ 

All  satisfaction  purely  sought  ; 
All  consolation  long  delayed  ; 


5  UGHTl  )',  EARTH. 

The  bliss  unuttered  and  unthought 

For  which  we  hungered  here  and  prayed. 

Jes        [Tiy  Name  is  pledge  of  all  — 

All  this  and  more  than  words  can  tell, 

And  we.  whatever  may  befall. 

all  find  hereafter  it  was  well. 


.( 


THE  NIGHT  WATCH. 

My  meditation  of  Him  shall  be  sweet."  —  Ps-  civ.  34. 

MEDITATION  sweet,  that  makes 
The  midnight  watch  an  hour  of  rest. 

And  brings,  when  fickle  sleep  forsakes, 
A  holier  calm  to  hearts  opprest. 


Soft  speaking  as  to  one  so  near 

That,  kneeling,  we  might  kiss  His  feet, 

The  Name  above  all  names  most  dear 
Our  erst  complaining  lips  repeat. 

Our  griefs  that  Christ  alone  can  guess, 
Our  doubts  that  Christ  alone  can  know, 

Flow  out  to  meet  His  tenderness  — 
In  tearful  confidences  flow. 


For  He  who  bore  all  sorrow,  weighed, 
Nailed  to  His  own,  each  lesser  cross  ; 

He  knows  the  burden  on  us  laid, 
The  secret  pain;  the  hidden  loss. 


THE  NIGHT  TCH 

Touched  with  our  v  lifteth  up 

The  humblest  follower  in  His  train  ; 
He  maketh  t  the  bitter  cu] 

And  death  :i. 

Thus  in  the  lonely  night  we  learn 
To  trust  Him  most  as  joys  decrease, 
id  when  our  need  turn 

To  hear  I  'ence  whisper,  7 


THE  FEAST-TIME  OF  THE  YEAR. 

HIS  is  the  feast-time  of  the  year 
When    hearts   grow   warm    and    home 
more  dear ; 
When  Autumn's  crimson  torch  expires 
To  flash  again  in  winter  fires  ; 
And  they  who  tracked  October's  flight 
Through  woods  with  gorgeous  hues  bedight, 
In  charmed  circle  sit  and  praise 
The  goodly  log's  triumphant  blaze. 

This  is  the  feast-time  of  the  year 

When  Plenty  pours  her  wine  of  cheer, 

And  even  humble  boards  may  spare 

To  poorer  poor  a  kindly  share. 

While  bursting  barns  and  granaries  know 

A  richer,  fuller  overflow, 

And  they  who  dwell  in  golden  ease 

Bless  without  toil,  yet  toil  to  please. 

This  is  the  feast-time  of  the  year  : 
The  blessed  Advent  draweth  near. 


THE   J  '      OF   7  A\  91 

Let  rich  and  poor  t         ler  break 
Th         ad  of  I*         >r  Chrisl 
Ag  linst  the  time  when  rich  and  poor 
Musi  ope  for  1 1  i  111  a  common  door, 
Who  comes  a  Gu  makes  a  f 

And  bids  the  greatest  and  th( 


A  LITTLE  CHRISTMAS  SERMON. 

HILDREN  dear,  I  heard  ye  say  : 
"  Morrows,  haste  and  haste  away  ; 
Bring  the  merry  Christmas  Day  ! 

"  Blithest  Carol,  sweetest  Chime, 
Hearts  that  dance  to  peal  and  rhyme, 
Welcome  in  the  happy  time  ! 

"  Starry  Tree,  shine  out  anew, 
Glittering  as  with  golden  dew, 
Gay  with  fruits  of  every  hue  !  " 

This  is  what  ye  said,  I  trow  : 
Little  children,  hearken  now 
Ere  ye  pluck  the  freighted  bough  ; 

Ponder  what  the  Carols  mean  ; 
What  the  Chime  rung  out  between, 
What  the  laden  Evergreen. 


A    LITTLE  CHRIS  X. 

'•  61         «  toGod  Most  Highl  " 
Sang  His        els  in  the  sky 
When  the  Lord  to  men  drew  nigh. 

"  Peace  on  earth  —  I  will  and  peace  ; 

Love  shall  reign,  and  wrong  shall  cease  ; 
He  ts  born  —  the  Prince  of  Peace  !  " 

Just  for  love  of  us  He  came, 
Took  His  sweetly  tender  Xame  — 
J]         !  stooped  to  our  sham 

"  I  will  save  you/'  —  thus   I  le  said  ; 
u  I  am  Life  ;  your  life  is  dead  ; 
I  will  give  you  life  it. 

Little  children,  closest  pre 
To  the  loving  Saviour's  breas 
ly  ye  must  love  Him  best  ! 

This  is  love  !  —  to  do  I  lis  will  ; 
,  truth  ;  forsaking  ill  \ 
rid  forbearing  still  ; 

Lttling  i  within 

(Wh  \  the  sin) 

11  through  Him  at  last  ye  win  > 


94  A   LITTLE  CHRISTMAS  SERMON. 

Sorrowing  over  evil  wrought  — 
Open  deed  or  secret  thought ; 
Straightway  doing  as  ye  ought ; 

Blessing  all  for  His  dear  sake,' 
As  His  blessing  ye  partake  ; 
Happier,  thus,  His  world  to  make. 

This  is  love  ;  a  service  light. 
Done  with  all  your  little  might: 
None  shall  fail  to  do  it  right. 

Let  your  little  hearts  reply 
To  the  angels  irAhe  sky  : 
c<  Love  shall  reign  eternally  ! 

"  God  is  love  forevennore  ; 
Love  we  Him,  and  Him  adore 
In  the  Christ-Child  born  of  yore." 

Let  your  lives  ring  out  His  praise 
Like  a  chime  His  finger  sways  : 
Sweet  as  carols  be  your  days. 

Beautiful  with  holiness, 

Let  your  daily  deeds  confess 

In  whose  Name  ye  seek  to  bless. 


LITTLE  CIIK.  RMON. 

This  is  what  tl  \  : 

What  the  Chime  rang  clear  between  ; 

What  the  bounteous  Evergreen. 


IMMANUEL. 

ING,  sweet  bells  of  Christendom, 
Everywhere  the  tidings  tell 
How  the  Lord  to  earth  did  come 
Ring  and  tell ! 


Swift  to  seek  and  save  the  lost, 

More  than  merciful  He  came  \ 
Glad  to  pay  life's  bitter  cost 
Jesus  came. 

Prince  of  Peace,  the  Heavenly  King, 

As  a  mortal  babe  disguised 
He  appeared  whom  angels  sing  — 
Earth-disguised. 

Love  Divine  in  human  frame, 
Of  the  lowly,  lowliest  He  ; 
Stript  of  glory,  in  His  shame 
Gloried  He. 


EMMANUEL*  97 

Empty-handed  from  His  birth, 

price  I  Ic  brought 

T;  s  hidden  not  in  earth 

Jesus  brought. 

To  the  blind,  unclouded  sigh 

T  i  the  dumb,  the  voice  of  praise  ; 
And  to  all  in  darkness,  light  — 
Joy  and  praise. 

To  the  poor,  the  Gospel's  wealth  : 

1  o  the  rich,  the  spirit  poor; 
And  to  all.  His  saving  health  — 
Rich  and  poor. 

1  o  the  heavy-laden,  res: 

i  the  mourner,  words  of  lift 
;d  to  all  —  the  last  and  best  — 
.dless  life. 

In  the  |         Ct  path  He  trod. 

Still  H         OtprintS  mark  the  way  ; 
Out  to  men  and  up  to  God 
LOW  the 

Out  to  men  in  love  that  br 
Bread  of  charity  with  all, 
7 


'98  IMMANUEL. 

And —  thrice-blessed  then  !  —  forsakes 
Self  for  all. 

Up  to  God  in  deeds  like  prayers, 

In  obedience  to  Him, 
And  in  faith  —  love's  altar-stairs 
Reared  to  Him. 

Ring,  sweet  bells  of  Christendom, 

Far  and  near  the  tidings  tell 
How  the  Lord  to  earth  did  come  — 
Ring  and  tell  ! 

Join,  good  Christians,  east  and  west, 

In  ImmanuePs  endless  praise, 
And  with  deeds  of  mercy  best 
Show  His  praise  ! 

Still  the  Christmas  angels  sing  : 

"  Glory  be  to  God  Most  High  !  " 
The  eternal  echoes  ring : 

"  God  Most  High  !  " 

Lift  your  songs  in  unison  : 

"  Peace  on  earth,  good-will  to  men  !  " 
Mingle  song  and  life  in  one 
Wide  "Amen/" 


V* 


L 


MARY    MOTH  MR. 

ORK  than  royal  G 
Where  th  tie  kine  made  w. 

t  the  Christ-child  meek  as  they. 


Knelt  the  Magi  round  His  be 

low  each  proudest  head  ; 
Mary  Mother  pondered. 

Gold  and  frankincense  and  myrrh 
They  the  «  s     at  confer; 

>u  mild  looks  up  to  her ! 

What  her  gif        Than  nothing  les 
die  might  crown  and  ble-^ 
m  whom  king         all  King  confe 

with  woes  to  come 
her  soul  lies  dun. 
Love,  of  all  she  hath,  the  sum  ! 

—  1  among  v.         n,  thou 

Who. 

Lowli  be  low ! 


THE    NATIVITY. 

ENEATH  the  dark,  expectant  skies,  while 
crowded  Bethlehem  slept, 
Their  sleeping  flocks  in  quiet  fields  the  faith- 
ful shepherds  kept, 
When  round    about   them,  suddenly,  there    shone  a 

glorious  light, 
And   in   the    midst  an  Angel  stood,  majestical  and 
bright. 

What  mortal  eye  could  look  undazed  !  what  mortal 

ear  could  hear 
The   voice   most   sweet,  most  terrible  in  sweetness, 

without  fear ! 
While  on  the  wide  Judean  hills  the  reverent  winds 

were  stayed, 
Prostrate  the  humble  shepherds  fell,  for  they  were 

sore  afraid. 

"  Fear   not  ;  behold,  I  bring  you  joy  !  "  the  Angel 
spake  and  smiled ; 


THl  I'/TV.  IOI 

11  To  you  this  day  in  David's  town  is  born  the  prom- 
ised Child  ; 

A  -  >ur,  even  Christ  the  Lord,  and  this  shall  be  the 
sign  — 

Ye  in  a  manger  lowly  laid  shall  find  the  Babe 
Divine.*' 

And  with  the   Angel,  lo  !   a  host  of  shining  ones  w 

set 
Chanting,   "  All  gl  >ry  be  to   God,   as    it    hath   ever 

been  ; 
Glory  to  God,  on    earth   be    pea         ind    unto   men 

good-  will. " 
IT.  j,  in  splendor  vanishing,  and  all  grew  dark 

and  still. 

Amazed  the  shepherds  heard ,  and  rose,  and  made 
with  haste  their  way 

To  where,  within  the  stable  walls,  the  world's  Re- 
deemer Ki 

\  >r  wider  space,  nor  fairer  place,  had  earth  to  spare 
for  Him 

Whose  Throne  from  everlasting  burned,  rayed  round 
with  seraphim. 

J  out  of  en,  in  silver  cadeiu 

Fl<  -wn  tl  ^elic  strains  proclaimi 

joy  and  p 


102  THE   NATIVITY. 

Her  rapture  swelling  into  tears,  the  trembling  Mother 
bent 

Above  her  Child,  her  Holy  One,  in  awe  and  wonder- 
ment. 

And  if  a  cloud  of  radiance  filled  the  consecrated 

place, 
That  cloud  was  darkness  in  her  eyes,  long-dwelling 

on  His  face ; 
Her  tranced  vision  scarce  withdrawn  when  the  glad 

shepherds  came, 
Beheld  the  Babe  and  glorified  the  One  Eternal  Name. 

And  was  the  Word,  indeed,  made  flesh?  O  Everlast- 
ing Lord  ! 

O  Prince  of  Peace !  O  Mighty  God,  forever-more 
adored  ! 

Who,  reckoning  unreckoned  bliss,  cast  all  His  glory 

by, 

When  from  the  prison-house  of  sin  He  heard  the  cap- 
tive cry ! 

O  Love,  that  no  created  love  can  ever  comprehend, 
Outreaching  life's  dark  uttermost,  bounding  the  end- 
less end ; 
That  condescended  to  the  low  from  Height  above  all 
height, 


THE  NATIVITY.  I03 

And,  bosomed   in   a   blameless    Babe,  brought  into 

darkness  light 

Wherever  Christinas  bells  shall  chime,  and  Christmas 

chee  round. 
Be    grateful    joy  —  not    heedless    mirth  —  in    every 

dwelling  found  ; 
While  Faith  unveils  her  throbbing  breast,  and   close- 

lier  folds  within 
The    IIolv  Child  whose  sinlessness    hath   answered 

once  for  sin. 

The  humblest  home  that  He  may   find,  the  poorest 

heart  of  earth, 
Not  meaner  is  than  Bethlehem's  stall,  made  fair  by 

Jesus'  birth  j 
And   light   more    marvelous    shall    stream    into  that 

house  of  cla 
Abiding  and  abounding  more  unto  the  perfect  day. 

Comfort  t  .ver  all  desire  and  soothe  the  sharpest 

pain, 
A  rest  to  weariness,  and  to  such  as  do  complain, 

Dread  to  the  Inn  and  to  them  that  thirst  a  living 

well, 

r   with    His   neediest    oik  a    most 

delight  to  dwell. 


104  THE  NATIVITY. 

He  honoreth  not   the    place  of  pride,    but  seeketh 

lowly  doors, 
And  love,  the  sweet  return  of  love,  is  all  that  He 

implores ; 
The  love  that,  waiting   on  His  word,  doth  evermore 

increase, 
And  magnify  in  daily  life  the  angels'  song  of  peace. 

Wherever  Christmas  greetings  flow,  and  Christmas 

cheer  goes  round, 
Let  charity  in  gracious  deeds  and  gracious  thoughts 

abound ; 
And  Zion,   garlanding   her   gates,  put   on   her   glad 

array, 
And  celebrate  with  psalms  of  joy  ImmanueFs   natal 

day. 

O  Christ,  Most  High  !  Incarnate  God  !  Meek  Babe 

of  Bethlehem! 
To  whom  all  angels  cry  aloud,  Thy  glory  shadowing 

them, 
Hear;  through  the  praise  of  heaven,  the  praise  of  Thy 

redeemed  earth 
Whose  desert  places  yet  shall  sing  for  joy  of  Jesus' 

birth  ! 


THi:    HOLY    CHILI 

RE  you  thinkii       lear child, 

IS  the  Lord  when  He  was  a   Child, 
id  blessed  Mary  the  Mother  mild 
With  heart  love-troubled  and         -  intent 
So  tenderly  watched  Him  as  He  went, 

nd  all  innocence  innocent, 
On  holy  and  unguessed  errands  bent  ? 

Are  you  dreaming,  dear  child. 

the  heavenly  mien  of  that  Wonderful  Child  ; 

The  look  He  wore  when  He  spake  or  smiled  \ 
The  healing  balm  of  His  touch  and  tear 
The  [  voice,  marvel  to  every  ear  ; 

That  drew  all  the  children  far  and  near 
(  Because  it  was  L<  and  love  is  dear  )  ? 

A:  i  lor.  ar  child, 

ke  tl.     I.   :  i  when  He  was  a  Child  ? 
r  :  the  Christ- Boy  underlie 


106  THE  HOLY  CHILD. 

So  meek  and  lowly,  so  reverent, 
Yet  filling  the  wise  with  wonderment, 
And  crowned  with  all  favor  as  He  went, 
Was,  first  and  last,  obedient. 


HYMNS    F<>k    LENT. 

i. 


>M  feasts  that  perish  turned  aside 
j§  A  little  space, 

* '^    Oh  !  be  the  flesh  indeed  denied 


it  souls,  an-hui  itisfied 

With  the  sweet  feast  of  grace  ! 

Thou  Who  didst  fast  so  long,  so  sore, 

r  our  poor  sake,  — 
All  pangs  of  earth'-        t  hunger  bore, 

Thou  Thy  precious  Blood  did'st  pour. 
Thy  blessed  Body  break  — 

O  Holy  Jesu  !  hear  our  cry, 

And  .  '       us  strength 
For  love  of  Thee  to  morti: 
The  love  (  If  till  self  shall  d 

And  leave  us  Thine  at  length  I 


108  HYMNS  FOR  LENT. 


II. 
IN    THE    DESERT. 

In  the  lone  desert  of  my  own  despair, 

Robed  in  the  sackcloth  of  unfriended  grief, 

With  tears  no  eyes  of  earthly  love  can  share, 
My  stricken  soul  implores  of  Heaven  relief. 

The  scorching  sand  beneath  my  naked  feet, 
And  penitential  ashes  on  my  head, 

I  hear  a  Voice  that  calls  me,  heavenly  sweet, 
And  the  soft  coming  of  a  Stranger's  tread. 

Low  kneeling  in  abasement,  I  can  feel 
A  hand  of  pity  gently  seeking  mine, 

A  breath  of  tender  mercy  o'er  me  steal 

From  Human  lips  whose  language  is  Divine, 

"Arise  ! "    He   saith,    and   lo  !   His   word   doth 
raise  ; 
"  Be  whole  !  "  He  saith,  and  lo  !  His  word 
doth  heal  \ 
Prostrate  again  I  fall,  but  now  in  praise  : 

"  Lord,  at  Thy  feet  forever  let  me  kneel." 


5TER-]        N   VIOLETf 
I  H<  Easter  I  K\y.  ( )  Lilies  whit 

gr^HjH&l        Your  shrined  splendors  keep  ! 

But  while  the  1,  waning  light 

Of  I  Even  fade 

mid  the  sacred  shades 

Where  Sorrow  comes  to  weep,  — 
Nor  weeps  in  vain 

ice  Hope  is  born  of  very  Pain 
(  And  Pain  its  pangs  in  joy  f«  i  )  — 

e  breathe  your  balm,  sweet  Violets  1 

ar  twilight-flowers  whose  lovely  hue. 
More  tender  than  the  tench  blue 

Vet  no:     -  purple  sad.  appears 
Most  like  transformed  t< 

V  little  while  m  to 

And  yet  a  little  while 

hall  noi~  ;11  a\ 

i    iseen  tnidnij       ky 


HO  EASTER-EVEN  VIOLETS, 

Twilight  and  Day-break  run  to  meet ! 
Already  angels  throng  the  air, 
And  twain  descending,  kneel 

Veiled  in  awe,  at  head  and  feet 
Of  that  new  tomb  whose  broken  seal 
The  wondering  Morning  shall  reveal 

And,  "  He  is  risen  !  "  declare. 

Sweet  odors  —  sweeter  than  the  sweet 
Of  violets  and  lilies  blent, 
The  sweet  of  holy  slumber  spent  — 

Stealing  from  vesture  folded  fair 

And  fragrant  with  the  Lord's  own  care, 
Wherein  His  Blessed  Body  lay 
Till  break  of  day, 

Shall  make  most  sweet  the  graves  of  those 
Who  entering  into  Paradise, 

Do  sleep  in  Him  Who  died  and  rose  — 
In  Whom  they,  too,  shall  rise." 


CAROL. 

['I'll  flowers  we  crown  His  altar  fair, 
r  Cti  own  morning  breaks, 

And  earth  of  Easter-tide  aware 
>  song  and  bloom  awakes. 

CHORT         The  day  of  da  the  Easter  Day  ; 

The  Church  puts  on  her  white  array 
For  Christ  hath  filled  the  very  tomb 
With  Easter  light  and  Easter  bloom. 

His  love  o'er  loveliest  things  of  earth 

Symbolic  beauty  throws  ; 
The  Resurrection  shadows  forth 

In  every  flower  that  blov 

The  day  of  days,  etc. 

These  flowers  their  mission  t  fulfill 

And  in  their  sweetness  die 

r  ho;  infolding  still, 

lb  flower-like  up  the 

The  day  of  days,  etc 


112  CAROL. 

O  Easter  Day  that  yet  shall  be, 
Whose  splendors  shall  not  fail ; 

Thy  deathless  bloom  the  Church  shall  see 
Beyond  the  rended  veil ! 

Chorus.     The  clay  of  days,  is  the  Easter  Day ; 
The  Church  puts  on  her  white  array  ; 
For  Christ  hath  filled  the  very  tomb 
With  Easter  light  and  Easter  bloom  ! 


TKk    DAY. 


AWN  of  dawns,  the  Easter  1 1 

Far  and  wide  in  splendor  breaks  \ 
I  >arkest  shadows  Bee  away 
Where  it  break 


Veiled  in  its  vernal  light, 

Christ,  the  Light  of  Light,  arose  j 
om  the  grave's  unbroken  night 
lie  arose. 

Though  beneath  the  Cross  He  fell, 
Though  upon  the  Cross  He  died. 
Led  He  captive  Death  and  Hell 
When  I  le  died. 


come,  1  le  overcame 

Conquered,  more  than  Conqueror  lives; 
Crowned  King  with  Heaven's  acclaim 

Jesus  live 

8 


114  EASTER   DAY. 

Through  the  gates  of  sacrifice 

He,  the  Victim,  Victor  went ; 
Lo,  His  triumph  lights  the  skies 
Since  He  went ! 

Darker  than  the  night  our  sin, 
Silent  as  the  tomb  our  life, 
Still  His  glory  enters  in  — 
Light  and  life. 

lc  Rise  and  follow  Me,"  He  saith ; 
"  Love  as  I  have  loved  you. 
Rise  to  life  that  I  through  death 
Won  for  you." 

Love  that  counts  not  sacrifice, 

Keeping  nothing  back  from  Him. 
To  such  love  must  we  arise, 
Following  Him. 

As  He  laid  His  garments  by 
With  the  bondage  of  the  grave, 

Clothed  in  Love's  own  Majesty 
Left  the  grave  — 

Self,  the  earth's  most  earthy  dress, 
Must  we  cast  aside  like  Him, 


And  putting  on  His  righteousw 
Rise  with  1  lim. 

He  hath  rolled  the  stone  away 

Through  Redemption's  might  for  us  ;  — 
Dawn  of  dawns,  the  Easter  Day 
Breaks  for  u 


THE   COMMON    OFFERING. 

T  is  not  the  deed  we  do, 

Though  the  deed  be  never  so  fair, 
5^£§J  But  the  love  that  the  dear  Lord  looketh  for, 


Hidden  with  holy  care 

In  the  heart  of  the  deed  so  fair. 

The  love  is  the  priceless  thing, 
The  treasure  our  treasure  must  hold. 

Or  ever  the  Lord  will  take  the  gift, 
Or  tell  the  worth  of  the  gold 
(  By  the  love  that  cannot  be  told  ). 


Behold  us,  the  rich  and  the  poor, 

Dear  Lord,  in  Thy  service  drawn  near 

One  consecrateth  a  precious  coin, 
One  droppeth  only  a  tear  : 
Look,  Master ;  the  love  is  here ! 


M  LET  YOUR    LIGHT  SO    SHINE 

reasure  hath  alone 
Whose  goods  the  needy  share  \ 
Who  prays  for  others  as  for  self, 
II  is  is  the  purest  prayer; 
Most  blest  the  righteous  deed  whereof 
( Sod  only  is  aware. 


Lord  Christ!  in  mercy  brin 
Our  selfish  ways  to  shame, 

And  make  our  hidden  lives  shine  out 
With  holier  thought  and  aim. 

That  we,  and  all  who  see  their  light, 
May  glorify  Thy  Name. 

Thy  L  >.e  to  I 
Our  fellow-love  should  he  ; 

Spi  ver-plenteou  >t, 

And  spread        f  for  Ti 
Since    I  of  all  our  d<  lid : 

e  do  them  unto  M<  . 


IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  CROSS, 

OVE  in  Thy  bosom  hides, 
O  Thou  Adored  ! 
Faith  at  Thy  feet  abides, 
Waiting  Thy  word. 

Babes  do  behold  Thy  Face, 
Saints  press  Thy  Throne ; 

Show  me  some  humble  place 
Sinners  may  own  : 

Where  sinks  the  song  of  praise 

Hushed  into  prayer, — 
Lest  in  melodious  maze 

They  should  despair  . 

Where  Thy  great  glory  dies 

Leaving  but  light, — 
Lest  their  bewildered  eyes 

Blindness  should  smite  : 


IN   THE  SHADOW  OF   THE   CROSS.  I  IQ 

Where  their  confessions  low 
Thou  wilt  receive 

Where  mercy's  stream  must  flow, 

QCe  they  belie\ 

There  to  their  SOIlls  indeed 

Rest  they  shall  win  : 
Filled  their  every  need. 
Cle  msfed  their  sin. 

—  Lo.  now  a  Cross  I  see, 

i  re  a  mini;'  with  g        •  : 
Lord,  it  o'ershadows  me  ! 
This  is  the  plat 


A   PRAYER   FOR   PATIENCE. 

nORD,  on  these  souls  disquieted, 

These  hearts  cast  down  in  sore  distress, 
These  lives  whence  all  but  pain  seems  fled, 
Look  with  Thine  utter  tenderness ! 

Look  on  the  love  that  fain  would  bide 

Clothed  in  patience  at  Thy  feet, 
And  wait  on  Thee,  albeit  denied, 

And  find  the  very  waiting  sweet ! 

We  know  Thy  healing,  Lord,  is  sure, 

Though  sorrow  wrings  our  cry  ;  How  long  I 

That  they  are  happy  who  endure, 
Or,  in  Thy  spirit,  suffer  wrong. 

O,  give  us  patience,  even  like  Thine 
(That  waiteth  our  submission  still  )  ; 

And  patient  faith  that  shall  divine 
Love  —  only  love  —  in  all  Thy  will ! 


A   PRAYER  1         PAT!  \2\ 

Love  —  onlv  love  —  that  soon  or  late 

Bestoweth  life  no  woes  betide, 
When  faith  itself  shall         $e  to  wait, 

And  patient  souls  be  glorified. 


A   PSALM    OF   WEARINESS. 

VERBORNE  by  journeyings  far 
Where  no  resting-places  are, 
Lured  by  visions  of  repose 
That  in  fading  mock  my  woes, 
Saviour !  may  Thy  presence  be 

Unto  me 
As  the  shadow  cool  and  sweet 
Of  a  rock  in  desert  heat. 


Shelter  of  the  shelterless, 
Cover  Thou  my  weariness  ; 
With  Thy  peace,  a  tent  most  fair, 
Screen  me  from  this  earthly  glare, 
And  Thy  consolations  shed 

On  my  head, 
Sweeter  than  the  balm  of  sleep 
When  the  eyes  forget  to  weep. 


A   MORNING    HYMN. 

SW  I  IT  untroubled  morning,  brir 
I'ntroubled  peace  upon  thy  win 
id  banish  with  the  banished  night 
The  fears  that  cloud  thy  cl<        5t  light. 

\  »t  more  serene,  if  not  more  drear. 
Will  be  the  morrow  for  our  fear; 
While  I  >oubt,  sad  spendthrift  !  throws  away 
The  golden  coin  of  hope  to-day. 

<  )  for  the  faith  that  goes  to  meet 

The  future  with  unshrinking  fee 
membering  that  the  sorest  rod 
i  >ms  with  the  patient  love  of  I  I     1  ! 

1>    ir  I.  rd,  Whoa        trey  veileth  all 

That  may  our  comi;  g  ill, 

Still  hide  from  us  the  thi 

]>ut  rest  our  troubled  he  .      In  Thee 


"IT    IS    I." 

T  is  so  hard  !  "   I  said, 
And  sat  within  and  told  my  troubles  o'er  ; 
A  hand  fell  softly  on  my  bowed  head, 
Yet  no  one  passed  my  door. 

"A  fancy  !  "  then  I  said  ; 
"  But  O  !  to  feel  that  touch  forevermore  ! 

Methinks,  indeed,  I  could  be  comforted  !  " — 
And  sorrowed  as  before. 

"  No  other  heart  can  know  !" 
Brake  out  my  grief  again  with  bitter  cry  ; 

il  And  God  is  far —  so  far  my  faith  lets  go 
Her  hold  on  Heaven  to  die  !  " 


Then  some  one  stooped  low, 
His  heart  full-throbbing,  as  with  tears,  close  by : 

"  Lord  !  is  it  Thou  so  moved  by  my  woe  ? ' 
He  answered  :  "  It  is  I." 


A   GROUP  BY   TWILh'.l 


,--  , --      k<  »SV  gl 
WtiVA.    Mushes  the  drifted  snov. 

**m£\  The  snow  that  all  day  long 
The  wind  has  o\         .  ept, 

with  sparkle-gusts  the  frosty  air. 
Within  shade  after  le  has  crept 

:ross  the  room,  and  silence  follows  song  — 
Silence  that  shrines  an  inarticulate  prayer. 

On  the  wide  hearth  the  heaped  and  glowing  coa 
Unstirred,  unfed, 

Quiver  and  redden  in  their  ashy  bed. 
Toy-strewn  the  floor  ; 
The  child  amid  his  playthi  'ropt  asleep 

Since  he  can  play  no  more. 
e  little  hand  that  rolls 

The  po',  1  marble  holds  it  unawa: 

mt  in  the  tender  palm 
So  one  day  he  will  keep 
Moi 

In  sleep  I  aim. 


126  A    GROUP  BY  TWILIGHT. 

Romance,  sweet  weaver,  weaves  her  fancies  bright, 
Her  flushed  face  radiant  in  the  sunset  light ; 
Whispers  her  dreams  confidingly,  and  hears 
Responses  lost  to  wiser  ears. 

In  the  soft  twilight  Love  with  warm-claspt  hands 

Speechlessly  stands ; 
Or,  with  a  look  more  full  than  the  fullest  utterance, 

turns 

To  the  large  star  that  burns 
Above  the  fading  splendors  of  the  west, — 
Shining  like  love  —  trembling  with  love's  unrest. 

Age,  busy  with  old  memories  —  pictures  they 
"Of  just  such  twilights  !  —  puts  away 

The  present  for  those  hoarded  treasures  ; 
Untainted  by  the  touch  of  time, 
By  change  of  season  or  of  clime 

Those  pure,  remembered  pleasures  : 
Yet  now  and  then  slow  tears  —  not  Sorrow's  — 
Steal  down  the  deep,  deep  furrows ! 

In  farthest  niche,  in  deepest  shade, 
One,  unbetrayed 

By  the  first  star-mist  of  the  skies, 

Looks  up  in  prayer  unheard : 

Too  frail  the  strongest  word 


A    GROUP  BY   TWILIGHT.  I- 

That  J  r  to  hold  ! 

O  lifted  eyes 

Raining  repentant  rail 
O  hands  that  drop  earth-hopes  like  gold 
Whose  touch  has  blister  lumb  heart  of  flesh 

Tortured  by  sinful  throes, 
Vet  yearning  toward  the  Christ  Whose  wounds 

1  ich  and  all  thv  woes 

Do  bleed  afresh  : 

He  hears  —  He  hears  !  Thy  crying        t  in  vain. 
Though  human  ear  may  list  and  catch  it  never, 
Nor  Seraphim,  nor  Cherubim  !  ) 
Thy  crying  has  gone  up  to  Him  — 
The     loudest,    weakest,    saddest,    sweet*         of   all 
sounds !  — 
Him  Who  died  in  love,  and  lives  and  loves  forever 


THE    UNSPOKEN   PRAYER. 

s%lr®?l   PONDERED  how  to  shape  my  prayer 
I  chose  the  words  with  pious  care. 
Lest  with  my  lips  I  should  betray 


The  wish  my  heart  would  hide  away. 


The  thing  I  craved  I  dared  not  ask  ; 
Yet,  like  a  face  behind  a  mask, 
That  wish  looked  up  through  every  word, 
And  it  was  answered,  though  unheard  ! 


A    VIGIL. 

ARK  shore,  and  desolate  sky 
Unquickened  by  a  star  ; 

id  sea  where  wandering  sails  are  lost 
In  night  afar  I 


No  human  presence  sweet, 
Nor  other  sound  beside, 
ive  that  to  silence  near  akin  — 
The  ebbing  tide. 

Only  a  lonely  wreck 

High  on  the  lonely  beach. 
Whose  hopelessness  defies  at  L 
The  breaker's  reach. 

<  )  Earth  that  keeps  no  watch, 
I  )  Heaven  that  lights  no  Ma 
I  Ik  is  Who  cares  for  every  sail, 
1 . ach  broken  spar  ! 
9 


WHEN    I   AWAKE. 

HEN  I  awake  shall  I  Thine  image  bear, 
O  Thou  Adored  ? 
The  image  lost,  in  some  pure  Otherwhere 
O  shall  it  be  restored  ? 
Already  stealeth  o'er  my  trembling  soul 

Some  semblance  sweet  — 
The  wavering  outline  of  the  perfect  whole 
Thy  Touch  shall  yet  complete  ? 

When  I  awake  shall  I  indeed  cast  by 

.All  earthly  taint, 
And  walk  with  Thee  in  white,  Thy  white,  on  high, 

As  seraph  walks  and  saint  ? 
Through  endless,  blessed  ages  shall  I  know 

Thy  Will  alone  — 
Its  all-pervading,  perfect  motions  grow 

More  than  mine  own  mine  own  ? 

The  glories  that  no  vision  can  forestall 
With  crystal  gleam  \ 


WHEN  I  AW  Ah  i  J1 

The  peace,  the  rapture  and  the  holy  thrall 

I  If  Love  that  reigns  suprenv 
The  death  of  all  that  meaneth  self  and  time 

Th         in  of  Thee, 
My  Lord  —  my  God!  the  victory  sublime 

When  only  Thou  shalt  be  ;  — 

Thou  all  in  all  —  all  in  Thy  glory  lc 

And  all,  all  found 

>nd  price  ;  no  aspiration  cr         I  ; 

Thou,  onlv  Thou  our  bound  ;  — 
Shall  I  behold,  receive,  possess,  attain 

All  this  and  more 
To  tell  whereof  all  tongues  would  strive  in  vain. 

In  vain  all  language  pour? 

O  uncono.  Thine  own  Divine  surpr: 

Prepared  of  old  ; 
Hid  cv'n  from  faith-unsealed,  enkindled  eyes 

Till  Thou  shalt  say  :  1 
Life  —  Very  Life  I  God-Gift  wherein  are  blent 

All  gifl 
When  [a  — Oh  :i  of  Heaven's  content  !  — 

/  it 


